


Past

by collatorsden_archivist



Category: Ashes to Ashes, Life on Mars & Related Fandoms, Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Angst, Dark, M/M, Moresomes, R/NC-17 - Brown Cortina, Time Period: 1973-1981 (Life on Mars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-22
Updated: 2008-06-22
Packaged: 2019-01-20 16:55:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12437412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collatorsden_archivist/pseuds/collatorsden_archivist
Summary: Ain't no love, sure is a pity, Ain't no love 'cos you ain't around.David Coverdale, Whitesnake





	Past

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Janni, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [the Collators' Den](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Collators%27_Den), which was moved to the AO3 to ensure access and longevity for the fanworks. I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in October 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [the Collators' Den collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/collatorsden/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Part of the [Hookerverse](http://fiandyfic.livejournal.com/8203.html). This is part 'be careful what you wish for' and part farewell to Pervember. Beta'd by and also written especially for Fionnabair, who has been working very hard recently.

Gene stretched out in the cold bed. With his wife away, visiting her mother, the marital bed was too big and too lonely to get a decent night's kip.

 

 

He sighed, rolling over, but there was no scent of her, not even on her pillow. She had changed the sheets before she left. Just like Gene, she was ever practical and not romantic in the least. Except that sometimes, sometimes, Gene brought home flowers or took her out and she always had that look on her face, that look that said, 'you soppy 'apeth. But I love you'.

 

 

Gene sat up and flicked on the bedside lamp. No good. He'd have to take his frustrations out another, tried and tested, way. And so he reached under the mattress and pulled out a well-thumbed copy of Fiesta magazine. Obviously the wife knew it was there, but she'd never said anything out of mutual respect.

 

 

Gene was at ease himself over the use of such material. Thinking of the wife while performing a necessary bodily function, as Gene thought of it, seemed to be more of a betrayal of the marriage, a cheapening of the partnership. Once or twice his thoughts had strayed to Cartwright and her fine figure, but that was too close to home and almost seemed akin to cheating; adultery in the mind was surely more important than adultery in the flesh, after all.

 

 

So he relaxed himself into a few fantasies of fictional girls. Real enough that it could just be true, but not real enough to trigger his guilt.

 

 

Page fourteen, that was right. A lovely lass. long, dark hair, ample figure, with big tits on her, nipples that stood at least half an inch proud; dusky peach and tempting.

 

 

Gene lay back, propped up slightly on the pillows and slowly undid his pyjama bottoms, unbuttoning his shirt as well, thinking about licking the girl's breasts, slowly, with the flat of his tongue, blowing air to chill the flesh and harden the nipples further. He grasped his cock as he imagined her lying on her back, holding those tits out for him almost in offering as he slid his cock between the two masses of flesh, her fingers squeezing them together as he moved between, sweat and saliva and other liquids lubricating them.

 

 

He jerked his hips once as she smiled up to him, now kneeling as he stood propped against a wall. Her dark head bobbing as her tits bounced just in view and rubbed against Gene's calves. Her mouth closed around his cock, swirling and sucking, lips at once tapping at the head, tongue delving to taste his pre-come, and then wrapped around the base, her throat working, massaging the head as Gene tightened his grip, pulling harder and longer and faster.

 

 

The fantasy girl shifted and changed, her hair shortening and growing lighter; her body becoming thinner, her tits shrinking. And he pictured one of his girls on her knees instead, her mouth wrapped round his cock, sucking and slurping like her life depended on it. Too far gone to care now, all Gene could see was the top of her head, short mid-brown hair, soft to the touch as he wrapped his fingers in it. Then the girl looked up, her eyes fixed on Gene's and he realised it was no girl. It was Tyler, his face a picture of wanton sexuality as Gene lost it and came hard, ribbons of come splattering across his chest and even hitting his chin.

 

 

Gene's eyes flew open, his breath coming in only short gasps, sounding like an asthmatic train. He was fucked. Totally and royally fucked. He'd not come that hard in years, if ever. He sat up, automatically grabbing for the Kleenex on the nightstand and started to clean up.

 

 

There was only one thing he could do.

 

 

Gene forgot all about it.


End file.
